


The Scrappy Someday

by donutsweeper



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Shadow (1994)
Genre: Crossover, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lamont came across people from all walks of life in his work as the Shadow but only a few that impressed him enough that he wanted to meet them again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scrappy Someday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Llwyden ferch Gyfrinach (Llwyden)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llwyden/gifts).



> A Yuletide gift for llwyden, because who could resist such a wonderful prompt?
> 
> Thanks to Morbane for the wonderful beta!

  
_If you would stand well with a great mind, leave him with a favorable impression of yourself;_  
_if with a little mind, leave him with a favorable impression of himself._  
**Samuel Taylor Coleridge**  


\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lamont didn't know what caught his eye, why he chose to look down that particular alley as they drove past, but look he did and he didn't like what he saw. "Stop the car," he shouted at Moe, bracing himself for the ensuing screech as they came to an immediate halt.

"Boss?" Moe began to call after him as Lamont threw the door open and exited, slipping into his Shadow persona between one breath and the next. "Ah, never mind. I'll be here when you're done."

The alley was dark, even in the middle of the day and within seconds he'd reached his destination, the spot where three teenaged thugs were looming over a small boy. They might not be have been old enough to shave, but they were old enough to be embracing the criminal life; two had bats and the third a knife and although the boy was standing up to them, fists at the ready, he had no chance. The fight would have been over in a few moments had the Shadow not chosen that moment to step in.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!" he boomed, pleased with how the words reverberated in the claustrophobic alley. 

The thugs spun around, away from their prey. "Shit!" one yelled, as he dropped his bat and ran for the opposite end of the alley. If only more members of the criminal element reacted to him like that; his job would be a lot easier. Not as fun, perhaps, but easier.

The other two were not as intelligent and began swinging their weapons around wildly as he laughed. They didn't have a hope in hell of actually hitting him, but that never stopped the likes of idiots like these. Lamont darted forward, knocking out one with a well placed punch to the chin and turned to take on the other only to find their prey had already done his job for him using the discarded bat from the first assailant. 

Wheezing slightly, the kid informed him, "Fifth Street Frank isn't going to like it that you went after his guys," somehow managing to look both ridiculously annoyed and fiercely determined as he spoke.

Lamont couldn't help but snort at the declaration. "The likes of Fifth Street Frank do not concern me." He'd allowed Fifth Street Frank and his gang to continue their petty thievery unimpeded so far, but perhaps it was time to step in. "You are welcome, by the way."

He got a shrug in response. "I didn't need the help," the boy declared, despite the wheezing, the one arm wrapped around his ribs, and the large bruise blossoming on his cheek. Leaning the bat against the wall, he grunted as he bent down to pick a woman's purse up off the pavement.

Well, that changed things. Apparently he'd stepped into a skirmish between petty thieves, rather than just a beating. That was... unexpected and disappointing. "That doesn't look like that belongs to you," he said, his tone implying violence to come.

"No kidding." The kid didn't roll his eyes, but Lamont could tell it was close. "They snatched it from Miss Maggie over on Greenwood. I was trying to get it back. The only picture she's got of her son is in here. I didn't want her to lose it."

"That was kind of you. Fool hearted, but kind." Lamont was familiar with Margaret Fitzgerald, a widow who took in washing to try to make ends meet. She was also practically blind, something the boy must have known. Interesting.

"I know Maggie Fitzgerald," he said, teasing out the boy's motivations. "Her vision has deteriorated to the point a photograph is useless to her." 

"That doesn't matter. Things aren't worthless, just 'cause you don't got a use for them. It means something to her, _that's_ what matters."

"You're right. Anything, no matter how immaterial to others, can be important to its owner, especially if there is a sentimental attachment." Then, allowing a touch of respect to creep into his voice, he added, "A man dies who for our country deserves to be remembered and his mother should be able to retain a memento of him." 

That earned him a wry smile and a soft, "He served with my dad."

If Lamont remembered correctly the son had died along with most of his battalion, which didn't bode well for the boy's father. "You've got moxie, kid, I'll give you that." 

"I'm not a kid. I'm ten."

"That's still a kid in my books. But even if it wasn't, three against one? And you without a weapon? Not the smartest thing in the world. Acting like that could get you killed."

"I couldn't just do nothing."

"Next time, get help. Find an adult or call the cops."

The kid looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Which, honestly, was a fair reaction to that kind of advice in a neighborhood like this. Uncle Wainwright tried, but his men could only do so much. "Frank and his guys won't stop until people make 'em stop. They're bullies and that's how bullies act." The kid clutched the purse tightly in both hands. "Someone's got to stand up to them, why not me? Anyway, I gotta get this back to Miss Maggie. Thank you for the help," he said, before darting off.

"Hey, wait!" Lamont shouted.

The boy stopped in the mouth of the alley. "What?"

Lamont took a few steps, easing closer to the kid but not close enough to scare him off. "What's your name?"

Squaring his shoulders, the kid replied, "Steve Rogers," but there was an implied, 'and what are you going to do about it,' behind the declaration.

"Nice to meet you, Steve Rogers. I'm sure Miss Maggie will appreciate you returning her bag to her." He nodded and the kid smiled in return and then took off, turning onto the street and out of sight.

Lamont returned the way he came. The two downed thugs were still unconscious when he checked on them; they would keep until one of his agents could bring them to the station for processing. Moe's taxi was waiting for him and he slipped in with a brusque, "Drive."

"You got it," Moe said as he pulled away from the curb. "Everything okay, boss?"

"As okay as it ever is," he said as he released his Shadow persona. He pulled out one of his rings. "No, too early," he murmured, tossing it into the air and catching it a few times. "Way too early."

"What's that, boss?"

"Nothing." He shoved the ring back into his pocket. He had a feeling he'd have another opportunity to recruit Steve Rogers into his network. Most likely more than one.


End file.
